


in the end

by barium



Series: We Are Legend [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Apocalypse, Apocalypsestuck, I am Legend references, Jade and Rose are mentioned, M/M, Skipping Stones, a dog - Freeform, road trips sort of, why is that a tag literally the plot of homestuck is it's the apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-10 20:22:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,969
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5599552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barium/pseuds/barium
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave is quite literally alone in the world, until he isn’t.</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the end

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hoping to get back in the groove of writing, and I'm gonna manifest my new resolution to write by writing fics. Not sure how good this is, but there'll be more to come, and hopefully the more I write the better I get. Here goes nothing!

i.

 

The odd thing was, Dave had dreamed the world was ending. He dreamed of an impossible meteor destroying the earth, like the one that hit the dinosaurs, denting the globe so that it looked less like a sphere and more like a carefully crumpled piece of paper. Which he supposed would make it a shower of big ass meteors as opposed to one the size of, like, Jupiter or something.

But these crashes did sort of end life as he knew it, for him, and life, period, for everybody else. There were no survivors in the ash and fire, except him. And there he was, alone.

He wasn't necessarily bullied in school, or online, but he had certainly been on the receiving end of the _I wouldn't date you if you were the last man on Earth_  line with both. The irony wasn't his favorite type of irony.

But of course this was a dream. He woke up, and the world was not on fire, and there weren't screams in the distance, and he didn't wonder what shape his planet had took in the aftermath of catastrophe. Actually, there weren't many sounds at all.

Or any.

His apartment in which he shared with his brother was erringly silent, even at three in the morning, when it was supposed to be. There weren't any noises or static from a television, or hum of an air conditioner, or movement from Bro's room. Dave supposed these things could be excused. After all, it's not unusual to not watch TV late at night, the AC is often broken, and Bro could totally take the occasional break from being nocturnal.

But — "Just to be safe," Dave whispered to himself, running his hands through his hair and climbing out of bed. The moonlight streaming in through his window gave him comfort, for some reason. He paused in front of Bro's door; he hardly was allowed in. _Special circumstances_ , he thought, and he twisted the knob carefully.

When he peeked in, the quiet stretched on. As he stepped closer he realized — there was no one in the bed.

"Alright, fine," he said aloud, fully comforted now, because absence is a totally valid excuse for silence. He knew he should get out soon, though, because the shit he'd get if he was caught in this room would not be worth the comfort. He exited nimbly, cautious not to touch anything on his way out but the doorknob.

So, back to his room. It was three forty-seven in the morning. Dave decided to not go back to sleep because he knew he wouldn't be able to, so he hopped on his desktop instead.

He considered porn. He considered drawing, with a glance to his tablet, which sat on his desk. He considered messaging John or Rose, who wouldn't message back, or Jade, who possibly would. Timezones. He considered porn again.

Dave was a considerer. He liked to believe he was a man of many opportunities. He liked planning. This was a very much different trait from his closest friend, John, who was extemporaneous and somewhat close-minded. For instance, John seemed like the kind of guy who wouldn't like the fact that his best friend watched gay pornography.

But anyway.

Dave opened pesterchum, and because he was feeling especially chummy after dreaming the world had ended, (thus killing all of his friends), he decided to message all three.

To Rose:

TG: hey rose i have a serious af question  
TG: would you rather the earth be hit by one giant meteor  
TG: like another planet basically  
TG: possibly jupiter  
TG: or would you rather a bunch of small meteors just sprinkled over us  
TG: got through the gotdamn atmosphere somehow and killed like everything  
TG: which is more survivable  
TG: this is for science  
TG: wait i forgot jade is the sciencey one fuck  
TG: well youre smart too  
TG: wait forget i said that  
TG: i hope your dreams are going ok tho for reals  
TG: message me back later

She would probably say something like _Oh, Dave, is this a trick question? It does not matter how survivable the world is. Who would want to live in a world so ruined? Thank you, by the way. My dreams don't make a lot of sense. Why, would you like to discuss yours?_

Fucking Rose.

To Jade:

TG: yo what time is it over there  
TG: the suns gotta be up right  
TG: jade is there a volcano on your island  
TG: do you believe the dinosaurs were killed by a meteor or lava?  
TG: lava would be a little harsh i think  
TG: on the baby dinosaurs  
GG: D:!!  
TG: oh hi jade  
GG: i was going to answer but then you made me sad!  
TG: sorry  
GG: its fine :P im not really a paleontologist dave, isnt that you? i think this is a question for google!  
TG: whoa shit youre totally right  
TG: but how are you  
GG: im good!! its actually afternoon here  
GG: i was about to go exploring  
GG: with my guns!  
TG: well shit dont let this texan stop you  
TG: try not to kill any dinosaurs  
GG: i wish there were dinosaurs on my island, thatd be so cool!!! :D  
GG: and no worries, theyre only for protection  
GG: there are bears and wolves here!  
TG: oh my  
TG: well dont die  
GG: <3 <3 <3

Dave cracked a smile. Nerves a little calmer now, he messaged John, though he really didn't have anything to say.

TG: john  
TG: uh  
TG: i know youre prob asleep in your bed dreaming about puppies and 90s movies and whatnot but  
TG: when you see this message  
TG: message me back  
TG: ok?

That was all. He left the tab open, and decided to bide his time by drawing. And porn, but drawing mostly. And not drawing porn.

Besides Jade's earlier messages, Dave did not get a single reply by eleven AM. His brother had also not shown up. The longest Bro went away from home without warning was four days, so Dave wasn't too worried yet. He had made his own breakfast — a bowl of Cheerios with a side of Doritos — while he watched the sun come up. He only checked his phone for messages hourly.

Hours passed. Bro wasn't back and it was Sunday, so he wasn't stressed about school. (He realized, later, the irony of the world ending on a Sunday. He did enjoy this type of irony.) He snuck into Bro's room to use his equipment. He made music and practiced mixing well into the night, with food and bathroom breaks.

Dave had dreams of being a DJ. He also had dreams of being in a rock band, and marrying his best friend John. He also had dreams of meteors setting fire to all of planet earth. In short, he realized that his dreams were just that: dreams. He didn't mind. Much.

He watched television. It was dark, getting late. He checked his phone, but there were no messages. This, unlike most of the things that happened in the last 24 hours, was inexcusable.

He went to bed anyway. Early, meaning before midnight, for the first time in a long, long while.

He did not dream of death and burning. He did, however, wake up uncomfortably aroused. So he took care of it in the shower.

He didn't expect Bro to be back this morning, and he wasn't. He did expect an answer on pesterchum, and there wasn't. Sighing, he made breakfast. More cereal. The sound of the pieces hitting the bowl was loud to his ears, and he marveled, again, at the lack of sound. He wasn't a loud person, or a fan of loud things — except John Egbert, who didn't count — but the silence was just weird.

He decided to marvel at this aloud. "Fucking weird."

He put a bite of cereal in his mouth, and walked to open the window. Maybe the AC was broken, after all. It didn't take him long to deflate at the fact that there was no wind.

It took him a few seconds longer, elbow on the windowsill in his empty living room, food traveling down his throat, to realize that the people, seemingly miles below, were not there.

Dave was a calm and rational person. Actually, no he wasn't. He rushed to eat one more bite of cereal before throwing on a shirt and pants and walking outside. He recalled his dream from before, the feeling of total aloneness he felt within it. What if he were alone? Where was all the fire, all the zombies, all the nuclear radiation, all the fucking _something_?

Where were all the bodies?

He knocked on different doors on his hallway, loudly, knocked on all of them and then went down a flight of stairs and banged on some more. He felt a little like a sergeant, banging pots and pans outside of sleeping quarters.

"Hello?" he yelled. "Hello? Hello!"

'Hello' was a stupid thing to say when looking for people. He half hoped someone would pop out from behind a door and tell him so.

"Katherine? Marcus? Leah?" Names of people he knew lived in the building. "Bro?"

He stopped knocking on doors, just rushed to the lobby instead. Naturally, there was nobody there.

"Mr. Brees?" The lobby receptionist. "What the hell? What the fuck!"

Dave stormed into the behind-the-scenes area of his ginormous apartment building. Papers littered the ground, a few cups had spilled over. "What is this, the fucking rapture?"

What he said was a joke, but maybe it was. He shook his head, getting frustrated. He stepped outside. He lived in a relatively busy neighborhood, but all cars were parked, and all lights were off. No one was in the streets. "Hello?" he whispered. Louder: "Hey!"

But no one came.

He couldn't be alone. He couldn't be. He whipped out his phone, decided to waste data.

To Rose: is your town as desolate as mine haha

To Jade: are you alive? are you?

To John: no one is here john. are you there?

He waited. And waited. His messages had sent, his phone said. He waited. Twenty minutes had passed. He was kind of cooking in the sun.

He walked under the shade of his apartment. He set his phone down on the concrete as he sat in front of it, and he waited.

A few ants crawled in his peripheral. His eyes followed them. Were bugs his only company now?

This dream was bullshit. Where was all the fun? This was just — nothing. He would be bored, in a few days time. What kind of apocalypse is this?

He waited.

 

+

 

Days passed, and no one appeared. Dave had lived his sixteen years of life as a recluse, and didn't exactly stop on account of the world ending or some shit. He hid from no one in his apartment with the door locked. When his food supply ran low, he stole food from the refrigerators and cabinets of the other apartments on his floor, and locked himself in his own apartment again.

Nobody answered his messages.

He would spend hours on the roof of his apartment building, keeping watch of the ground below. A lot of his vision was obscured by other tall buildings, but he still had somewhat of a vantage point. He would sit there, with his legs dangling off the edge, a jug of apple juice in one hand and his phone in the other, even though it never rang.

He did spend quite some time dialing 911. Nothing had happened. Wasn't there supposed to be an automated voicemail, or a distress signal sent out to every cop and ambulance in the area?

On day six, he was sunburned. Badly, except for around his eyes, where his shades sat. He looked comical, really. He avoided mirrors. One night he got to thinking about movies, and the heroes in them never had sunglasses tan lines around their eyes, so he stopped wearing his shades. No one to hide from now, anyway.

The internet stopped working on day seven, as did the rest of the electricity. This sucked, because he pretty much had the TV on all the time, reruns of Friends providing pleasant background noise to the otherwise silence of his life. He had stopped making music. In fact, Dave hadn't stepped foot in his brother's room since the day he realized his brother wasn't coming back.

The water was gone too. He didn't quite know what he was going to do about that yet.

Now that he had no stove or microwave, he needed cans. And a can opener, which Rose would probably chastise him for not previously owning. Whatever. It wasn't summer or spring, but it was hot, because it was Texas, so he put on a pair of thin jeans and a tank top, backpack on his back, and decided to look for some.

He lived near a restaurant, and a few chain stores. He walked into a corner market, to the can isle. He grabbed lots: corns, beans, peanuts, fruits, chili. His backpack weighed him down, so when he headed to something bigger — Walmart, jackpot — he grabbed a buggy.

It had taken him a while to walk to Walmart (he cursed himself for not thinking to take a bike; he had passed many), so he was sweaty. The no-water issue would come into play soon. He placed his backpack in the shopping cart.

Walmart was ominously lit. The light from the setting sun shone through the windows creepily, but Dave shrugged and walked. He had watched these streets for days. No one came out at night. He thought it might've been pretty cool, if he was in an I am Legend type of situation. He wasn't quite at the talking to mannequins stage yet. How long was Will Smith alone for, anyway?

Dave strolled down aisle after aisle, putting stuff he probably (definitely) didn't need into the buggy. Clothes — a lot of them — toys, board games. Trash bags. Shoes. When he wandered down the office supplies aisle he mused taking notebooks, journaling the events of his days, which were surely numbered. Dave Strider was fully aware that he was not Will Smith, and he probably wouldn’t last long. He took two. (He would never write in them.)

Noise from a nearby aisle attracted his attention immediately. His mind went straight to predators — _zombies_ , he thought gleefully, and then was terrified, why hadn't he thought to hit up a gun shop?

When he went to check it out, he didn't find a zombie. Not even a dog, which would've been ridiculously cool. Then he could really pretend to be Will Smith. But no, it was just a raccoon. It scampered when Dave approached.

"Animals and bugs," he muttered to himself. "I wonder if I could find myself a Sam."

He didn't even look, really. He gripped his hands on the buggy, and began his trek home.

 

+

 

One month passed, exactly. Dave left his apartment a few more times, looking for a dog. He did not find one.

He didn't go out on the roof much, either. His persistent sunburn was finally starting to heal, and he rued how he had somehow forgotten to grab sunblock from any of the stores he went to. Laziness and depression were settling in, though, and he'd rather stay in and read a book he stole from his former neighbor than walk across the street and get sunscreen. He wondered if he would rather become depressed or go crazy.

There was one night he thought he'd do both. You see, Dave cannot repopulate the earth by himself. So it's his fault, then, if the human race died. So many movies and books written on the perseverance of homosapiens, how they're like cockroaches in their inability to disappear, all in vain. All because fate or God or whatever the fuck decided to put the weight of the world on the shoulders of a scrawny sixteen year old homo who was scared of people, really, and barely passing high school. The gay thing is the funniest part of all. Even if there were a girl with him, could he even do anything about it?

Dave cried, that night. He cried real, ginormous tears accompanied by those pitiful sobbing noises that make the hearer want to cry too, because humans are social animals. Dave cannot be social anymore. His friends still haven't responded to him.

"I hate this," he whispered, a knot in his voice. "I hate this, I hate this."

He suddenly wanted to go make friends with the mannequins at the mall.

On day 48, he decided he couldn't take it anymore. He put as many cans as he could into his backpack, got into the best looking car on his street, and pretended he knew how to drive. Surprisingly, he was okay at it.

He tried to conjure up a mental image of a map of this city of his, tried to figure out a way out of it. It occurred to him, dimly, that he had never left Houston before.

"Road trip," he sang to himself. He stopped real fast at a store to take some CDs. You couldn't have a road trip without music, of course. He ended up grabbing a lot, pretty much everything he could see. He needed variety, you see.

And there he was. Driving around a ghost town with _Highway to Hell_  on blast. As the drums picked up to accompany the guitar, Dave found himself — for the first time since he woke up from the meteors hitting the earth — happy. When the chorus kicked in, he was entering an interstate north, no cars around, so he allowed himself to throw his hands up and sing along.

He spent an hour or so just driving around the city, getting newly used to its barrenness and the controls of the car he chose. He let various tracks play, a surprising amount being Taylor Swift, and sang along to every one of them. He let his left hand sway out the window, get pushed around by the wind until it was so that he couldn’t feel it anymore. He drove, and drove. Swerved. Drove. He did stop, occasionally, to pee and eat chips. Life on the road peeing and eating chips was so far proving to be a lot better than life in his apartment peeing and eating chips.

After one trip, he got back into the shiny red car and considered stopping for the day, to sleep. But he didn’t. He was determined to at least cross the border into New Mexico. At some point between peeing and eating chips Dave Strider decided that he was, first things first, going to Washington. So he turned the keys and enjoyed the roar of the engine.

It was an hour later when time seemed to stop. Dave had entered another city and planned to scrounge for supplies. He approached an intersection mindlessly, there was no need to follow the rules of the road these days after all. His mind wasn’t really on anything, eyes glazed over, music off. His irises mulled over the low buildings and smooth cement under the tires. Stray weeds were sprouting from the concrete. And then he looked up.

And there was a person.

 

 

ii.

 

Just a person, in the middle of the road, staring at Dave’s car with wide eyes.

“Shit!” he said, slamming his brakes just in time, because he was going pretty fast okay, no one was supposed to be out here, _no one was supposed to be out here_. When the car lurched to a stop, he got a better look at the person.

Dark hair, equally dark stubble. Glasses. His clothes were dirty, torn, beat-up. And he, _he_ , definitely a boy. A man.

Were his windows tinted? Dave swallowed nervously. They maintained their stare-down for some good seconds. And then the stranger started walking towards him, purposefully.

Of course, Dave put the car in reverse and started backing up, panicked. “No, no, no, no,” he mumbled. What if this was a zombie? He had just got used to the _lame_  apocalypse, come on. Then the stranger’s voice rang out, surprisingly young-sounding for how he looked.

He said, “Dave!” and Dave almost forgot to stop the car before backing straight into a ditch in surprise. Because that wasn’t just anyone’s voice.

His window was rolled down, had been rolled down for a long while, and he leaned out of it, hands gripping the door, eyebrows furrowed. “John?”

“Yes!” The boy — the man — _John_  — actually _jumped_  in glee, punching the air. “Oh, god, yes!”

“I — what? No.” Dave opened the car door, hopped out, slammed it shut. He was staring at John, incredulously. “What the fuck?” And then it hit him. “Oh, I’m hallucinating. Perfect.”

“No!” John exclaimed, still sounding like he’s on fucking ecstasy or something. He ran towards Dave, quickly, and crushed him to him. He wasn’t much taller than Dave, but his head rested neatly on Dave’s shoulder.

Dave, quite frankly, couldn’t breathe. He wanted to cry, or curse some more, or actually hug John back, but he was frozen.

“I — I got your messages,” John admitted, not letting go in the slightest. His words caressed Dave’s ears. “The wifi went, I couldn’t message you back, and then everyone was gone, I -- Are you okay?” He let up a little now, looked into Dave’s face. Dave couldn’t believe he hadn’t recognized John on site, his eyes so blue and face so perfect. Damn him.

Two months. It had been two months of isolation. Dave hadn’t touched, talked to, or looked at a single tangible face in two _months_.

“This is really cruel,” he said, and he, yeah, started crying. He had cried more in the last two months than he ever had in his entire life. John made a small sound, like “Oh,” and comforted him. His hand moved in ringlets on Dave’s back, caring.

“Sorry.” Dave pushed John away, stepped back. “Sorry.”

“I’ve been lonely, too,” John assured him, smiling softly. “But I’m okay now, I think. I’m not sure I could bring myself to frown. You’re right here, in front of me. That’s crazy.”

“Fuck.” Before the meteors, before the end of the world, John and Dave had met only once. Dave had spent spring break in John’s suburbs, and the hug they shared at the airport completely demolished both of them. Dave was sure the affection explosion could’ve wiped out the earth way easier than any meteor could. Neither of them had ever met Jade or Rose. This pushed a few more traitor tears out of Dave’s eyes. He decided to ask about them. “Jade? Rose?”

He quickly felt guilty, because John was so happy to have finally found someone, literally just expressed how he couldn’t even frown, and Dave had just broke him. John shook his head softly. “I pestered. No response.”

Dave nodded glumly.

“We could go looking for them next?”

Dave sighed. “Maybe. I’d really like to just chill first.” His brain tried its best to deal with the previous sensory overload, and John just suddenly being here, which Dave really wanted to know more about. He took a deep breath. “Fuck.”

“Fuck,” John agreed. He pointed to the red car. “Yours?”

“For now,” Dave said. “Hop in.”

 

+

 

They both agreed that it’d feel weird to stay in a strange person’s old house, so Dave took them to the nearest hotel, after scouting around the city for half an hour. Neither of them talked much — they understood it wasn’t time for that yet — but their touches were constant. John’s fingers danced on Dave’s arm the entire time in the car, and when they both got out to find a room, John took his hand. Dave squeezed his.

The room they chose was easily accessible. One big bed, a mini fridge, a bathroom, a TV. A dresser. They set their bags on the floor (of which there were many, John had been going a while on foot and Dave had a lot on account of not having to carry anything) and both crashed on the bed.

“I have questions,” Dave said.

“I know,” John replied. “Me too.”

“A lot of them.”

“Me too,” John said, and rolled to his side. He laid his head on his hand, elbow on the bed. “You can go first.”

“Why are you in New Mexico?”

“Oh.” John ran to a particular bag he had on the floor, and pulled out his phone (there had been no reason to keep a phone on one’s person for a long time). “A few places had power still, for a while. I tried to always keep this fully charged so I could show you when I found you.” He turned it on, and when the lock screen finally appeared, he brought up his recent messages. Dave’s lit up red.

TG: no one is here john  
TG: are you there?

They feel like they were sent lifetimes ago.

Underneath, in blue:

EB: i’m here. nobody is here either.  
EB: dave?  
EB: please....  
EB: hello?

Dave’s heart broke for John. “Life’s a fucking joke.”

John smiled. “Yeah. I didn’t stay in my hometown very long. I couldn’t take it. So I decided to come to you.”

“Took you long enough.”

“Hey!” John collapsed on the bed and pointed an accusing finger at Dave. “You try to navigate yourself across several states with only maps from tourist attractions and random cars. I can’t even drive!”

“I’m surprised you didn’t crash.” Dave crawled closer to him.

“Oh, I did. A lot. Trust me.”

“Good thing everyone’s disappeared, or you would owe a lot of people a lot of money.” Dave leaned his head on John’s chest.

“Yeah. Good thing.” John’s voice was sad. “So what about you? What have you been up to?”

“Nothing interesting, I promise,” Dave said. He closed his eyes, ready for a nap, though he gave those up soon after everyone disappeared on account of wanting to be able to keep track of what day it was. “I briefly looked for a dog. I only decided to skip the city like a week ago.”

“A dog?” John asked.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

“For Will Smith.”

This clearly did not compute in John’s head for a good few moments, until it did. He hit Dave with the realization. “Oh! Sam. All this time I’ve been so distracted, it didn’t even occur to me. We’re totally exactly like I am Legend.”

“Totally.” Dave snorted. “So did you find any?”

“Dogs?” John’s voice was pitched. “Um, no. I wish. No cats either. Wild animals mostly….”

“Nature is spiralling out of control.”

“I was thankful there weren’t zombies around but soon enough we’re gonna have to face things just as threatening.”

“Yeah.”

They both looked at each other, gazes concentrated. It hit Dave all at once: they could look, but they were never going to find Rose, never going to cross oceans to see Jade, never going to be able to repopulate or fix society.

“No one’s out there, is there?” John looked down.

Dave shook his head. “I don’t think so.”

They slept on the same bed that night, legs tangling and breaths mingling. Dave dreamed that they found themselves a cat and a dog, and named them Rose and Jade, respectfully. But the cat died and the dog ran away, and when Dave went to ask John _What are we going to do?_ , there was no one.

He woke gasping — and in John’s arms, which scared him a lot. The touching, the touching. It seemed too good to be true. He tried to go back to sleep.

When Dave was small, Bro told him, he had abandonment issues. He would absolutely wail every time Bro or Rose or Miss Lalonde left the room, left him alone. It wasn’t a persisting issue, but he thought he might act that way again, if John left him.

Dave hugged John closer, and found out he was awake when he mumbled, “Dave?” His voice was throaty, thick with sleep.

Dave was a clingy person — perhaps a remnant of his abandonment issues. He knew this. But he stopped himself from reaching to grasp John’s shirt, from begging him to _Stay, please stay, I don’t know if I’ll survive if you leave. I’m not sure there’s a reason to survive without you_. He thought that might seem like a little too much.

He swallowed the emotion in his throat and looked into John’s blue eyes with his own red and said, “Let’s go find a dog tomorrow.”

 

+

 

“Hey, so what happened to your shades?”

“Oh, those.” Dave was perplexed at himself for having gone so long without them so easily. He hadn’t even noticed in the presence of someone else that he didn’t have them anymore. “I had a weird tan.”

John laughed, and it was the most beautiful music Dave had ever heard in his life. “No, but really.”

They were cruising through states without a map now. Dave left his calendar at the hotel, done with keeping track of the days. They were in a town with low and near buildings, and were having a decent time jumping from one to another. They were both on the lookout for anything moving.

Dave shrugged. “I did. But I lost them somewhere between raiding houses and driving to you.”

“Why didn’t you just take some new ones?”

“Because you gave me my shades, man,” Dave said. “They hold sentimental value.”

“I think you should get new ones,” John told him, but he was smiling, thankful for the compliment. “Or, I’ll get them for you.”

“Thanks.”

“Any time. Oh, I see something —!” John pointed down but far, and Dave rushed to his side to squint at where he was pointing. The sun was just coming up; the sky was a pale orange. Where John pointed was someone’s yard full of overgrown grass and rustling bushes. John jumped to the ground with a thud despite Dave’s “Wait—” and grabbed a rock, tossing it lightly in the vague direction of the rustling. When the rock landed the grass rustled more, in the direction of John.

It turned out to be a snake. John yodeled comically and rushed towards high ground, meaning he hurried to the other side of the road and climbed on top of trash cans, and then onto a house. The snake wasn’t following him. It slithered back into thicker grass.

Dave was smirking. When John saw this, he put out a thumb. “Pet snake, yeah?”

“No.” Dave held his own thumb point-down, and John frowned.

“What if there are no house animals?”

“Why would there be raccoons and deer and snakes and not cats or dogs? Besides, snakes can be house animals.”

“Well this whole thing is kind of fucking weird Dave! What about that movie, All Dogs Go to Heaven? Maybe it’s about having souls. Or something.”

Dave was tired of having to yell across an empty street. He hopped down, careful in the grass. He heard John slide and jump too, and they met up in the middle of the road. Dave said, “That’s on the assumption everyone died. Which would say _we_  had no souls, so we couldn’t die. Which is stupid.”

“What if this all just isn’t real?” John had his eyes toward the sky.

“What do you mean?” Dave asked. “Like a dream?”

“Maybe not. But you have to admit that just — none of this feels right,” John explained. “Like okay, this is the apocalypse. Now what? I feel like maybe God tried to make the world end, but he fucked it up somehow.”

“God doesn’t fuck up, that’s kind of the whole point.” Dave said this despite knowing nothing about religion. Wasn’t the Ark thing an accident? Wait, no, that was on purpose. Dave shook his head. “What would’ve been your preferred way of the world ending?”

“I don’t know. Zombies. Mass destruction.”

“That’s what _I_  said.”

John didn’t bother to learn what he meant. “But maybe the world ended correctly? You know alternate realities. Maybe we’re a branch of something bigger. Maybe we were just forgotten.”

“I have no idea what you’re trying to say.”

John shook his head, shielded his eyes from the sun. “Yeah, me neither.”

“Maybe we should give up dog searching.”

“Maybe.”

 

+

 

Dave's red car was out of gas, and when searching for a new vehicle, John suggested a black truck.

"Sleek. Simple," he said. Dave chuckled, but agreed. They piled their things in the bed of the new truck, and Dave thought of the idea of bringing along a tarp. For rain.

They bounced, leaving whatever town they left in the dust, and going wherever the road led them. Dave drove always. He suspected something about John's experience traveling made him afraid of cars. But this was okay; driving relaxed Dave.

They kept on the road for a few days, stopping occasionally to nap in the truck. Both of their grasps on the date were fucked up, but strangely enough Dave always seemed to keep a good grasp on the time.

About a week after their dog search in New Mexico, they came by a lake. John had been complaining about the weather periodically all that day, and when he saw the glisten of the sun off the water he practically jerked with surprise.

"Dave, a lake," he said.

"Are we gonna stop?" Dave asked. John nodded, and Dave pulled up to the body of water with the truck before parking. John started towards it, lifting his shirt, but Dave caught him around the waist. "Whoa there."

"It's hot," John complained, drawing out the word. Dave thought it wasn't really, but he did live in Texas for sixteen years.

"What's the game plan?" Dave asked, because he was a considerer. "How long are we gonna stay here? And are we — swimming?"

"Duh," John said, breaking free of Dave's grasp. "And I don't know, I just want to get out of the truck for a while and relax. Let go of my inhibitions."

"You shouldn't have inhibitions," Dave reminded him. "The world ended."

"And we're the last humans who will ever live on planet earth." John lifted his shirt over his head. "That's pretty stressful, I'd say."

He took off his shoes and waded in, shivering with delight at the temperature. He was a happy guy, but not usually so chipper, and Dave knew it was mostly for show. Sighing, Dave took off his own sneakers.

John was waist deep by the time Dave dipped his foot in. The water was warmer than he thought it would be, until John splashed him with it. "Hey," he warned.

"Hi, Dave," John sang, turning and choosing to submerge himself back first. Dave shielded himself from the mild splash. John's head popped back up, grinning. "Do you think I should be worried about gators or something?"

"We're not in Florida."

"Are they only in Florida?"

Dave shrugged, stepping in further, reaching for John. The particular land around them wasn't spectacular or special, not even secluded. The lake was small looking at it externally but shockingly deep, and clearly visible from all sides, not that anyone of note would find them.

Dave grabbed John to help pull him in, but John gripped him back and dunked him. When Dave reemerged John was guffawing, much like the way Jade would guffaw in their old video chats.

"I got you!" John laughed. "How does it feel to — whoa!" Dave pushed him under but was dragged in after him. He let out a sound of surprise.

They both emerged smiling. Dave wiped his hair out of his face, and then rubbed at his eyes, when a pair of lips met his own.

They stayed there for four beats before pulling away. Dave dropped his arms, stunned, mouth open a little in surprise. John looked terrified and started towards the surface, muttering words very fast like: "Wow, Dave, so sorry about that, let's just forget that happened, anyway I'm getting cold better head out —"

"John, wait."

Looking back, John was an idiot for thinking for even a second Dave would refuse him. Even if Dave had never considered the possibility of dating John before, they were still the last two people on earth, and people had needs.

Nevertheless, John stopped, looked back. "Yeah?"

Dave smirked a little, feeling the familiar rush he felt when he decided to leave Houston, when he turned on AC/DC and didn't look back. He stepped close to John, most of their bodies above the surface of the water, put a finger under his chin, and kissed him back. He felt a little silly doing so, shorter than John because of the ground of the lake, but John sighed into it.

They kissed, and they kissed, and they kissed. This rolled on a loop in his mind, he thought about starting his old journaling idea and beginning his first entry with _We kissed, and we kissed, and we kissed_. There was no magical backdrop, no sunset, no enchanted forest, not even wind, but their tongues touching was magical anyway.

"Have you ever done this before?" John asked, gasping.

Dave said, "Kissed?"

"Oh, sorry, I asked about something we weren't doing yet." His hand reached down to grab Dave's crotch, and Dave hissed.

"Oh. That." Dave began kissing his neck, ears heating up. "No." He could feel John smiling contentedly.

"Can we take this to the truck?"

"The bed or the backseat?"

"Which is more cliche?"

They both agreed that teenage sex in the backseat of a car was more cliche, but Dave got a thrill out of the idea of getting it on in an essentially not private place, and so that's what happened.

 

+

 

An hour and easily the best time of Dave's life later, the truck hadn't moved, but they did change their clothes and opt to just throw rocks in the lake until nightfall.

"So how long have you liked me?" Dave asked, watching John toss a rock. It skipped twice.

"Um." John threw the ball straight up and caught it, casual if clumsy. Dave panicked for a second worried that the answer would be _not long at all, Dave, but now all I've got is you, and this is the easiest thing_. Then John said, "Since we hugged, when we met for the first time."

Dave's eyebrows shot up. He was wearing a new pair of aviators similar to his old ones; John had 'surprised' him with them not long after their talk about it. He felt surprisingly secure. "No shit?"

"No shit," John smiled, completely sincere. "I thought I was being completely obvious that whole trip, even Dad had caught on."

The mention of his dad made him wince, so Dave attempted to distract him by tossing his own rock. It sank straight to the bottom.

"You have to flick your wrist more," John said, and then demonstrated. He picked up another pebble, tossed it expertly. It skipped four times. Dave whistled. John bowed. "Thank you, thank you."

Dave tried a few more times, and John showed off a few more times. The sun was waning, not as harsh, and the air was light.

John broke the silence. "What about you?"

"Huh?"

"You kissed me back."

"Oh, yeah, I did do that, didn't I." Dave scratched at his chin, which was growing a little stubbly (pleasant news for him; John's facial hair grew like his dad's, he had to shave whenever they passed any source of water). John shoved him. "Yeah, I mean, I've liked you since forever, John."

"I always thought maybe you were a little gay or something," John admitted. "Rose helped me figure that out."

"Strange, because I never took you for anything less than hetero." Dave threw a rock. "To be honest."

"I'm still straight, just — you're the exception. The only exception." He started humming Paramore.

Dave snorted. "You don't exactly have many choices."

"I would choose you," John said honestly. He had stopped to turn to Dave, eyes locking his. "Even if there were 12 billion people on this planet, I'd want you. Even if we were stuck in different dimensions, I'd make a portal, I'd find you, and I'd choose you."

In an effort to stop his heart from exploding, Dave made a joke. "Even if your dimension was full of millions of Liv Tylers?"

John smiled, and leaned in to kiss him. "Even then."

 

 

iii.

 

"There has to be someone somewhere, right?"

Dave shrugged. It was was chilly out, and he and John were lazing out in the bed of the truck, musing on their futures or whatever. He said, "Sure, why not?"

"I'm serious," John said. "Say fine, we're the only two people in the US, okay. But that's two people that could be in another country, and another. There could be like 47 people on earth."

"What are you suggesting we do about it?" Dave grabbed a sharpie that was nearby; the truck had a lot of random stuff in and on it: blankets, writing utensils, canned foods, books, CDs, dirty clothes. He started drawing on his right hand. "If they're out there, I mean."

"Contact them," John answered simply. He sat up, eyeing Dave's ministrations. "Like —"

"Mail? Carrier pigeon?"

"No," John snapped, "Don't patronize me, David. I was thinking — message in a bottle, maybe."

Dave bursted with laughter at that, the force pushing him into a sitting position. It was still a new feeling to be able to laugh so openly, but he had his shades on. John was looking at him patiently, waiting.

"S-sorry, _Johnathan_ ," Dave breathed. "My bad, I just — message in a bottle?"

"We could both die tomorrow, Dave, and there'd be no evidence of us being here at all," John said, voice distressed. "And it could reach them." Dave sighed. "It could! Stay positive."

"I'm positive as fuck." Dave capped the sharpie. He had drawn abstract designs on the back of his hand, weaving around his fingers, clearly unfinished. "There's harm in doing that. We can send a message. But you have to write it."

"I think we should both write one."

Dave looked exasperated, but John leaned in to peck his lips — a wordless _please_  — and he relented. "Fine."

They both wrote immediately. John had to do a little searching in the front for decent paper. Dave started:

were out here somewhere and hope you are too. we also hope there are girls where you are, for the love of god

"Should we translate these to a few different languages?" John asked, breaking Dave's focus. "These letters _are_  traveling overseas."

"You can." Dave folded his own letter, finished. He had planned to write more, but he was fine; it was short, simple, and hopeful. Besides, John was probably writing a novel long enough for the both of them.

Days later, after managing to find their way to an ocean — the Pacific — they lit candles and played music on the beach, sending away their bottled letters in the way they deserved. To be honest, Dave had lost all his hope months ago, but John's optimism made him want to believe there were people out there somewhere.

Their letters floated in different directions. John turned up the volume of the music playing in the truck, before running to capture Dave's hands in his own and moving to the rhythm of the beat.

And they danced, and they danced, and they danced.

 

+

 

On day 227, they were in Colorado. Snow drizzled lightly over the roof of their new car: another truck, but smaller, and blue. Both agreed they couldn't run air conditioner anymore because they didn't want to waste gas too quickly. The windows were up in a futile attempt to not feel the coldness of the weather outside. John sat asleep in the passenger seat, burrowed in a blanket and head on one of Dave's jackets, a makeshift pillow. Reluctantly, Dave had on gloves.

Frankly, it was too fucking cold. This wasn't his first time seeing snow, but he would never get used to it, the texture or the temperature. Grumbling, he drove through the neighborhood (they had also agreed highways were efficient but boring, so they drove straight through towns and cities). Then the craziest thing happened.

There was a dog.

Dave immediately parked the car. "John."

John stirred, and Dave repeated himself a little louder. John opened his eyes. "What?" he moaned.

"You still want a dog?" Dave opened the car door and got out, following the direction the animal went. The cold bit at him harshly, but he pursued. He heard John say, "What?" louder, more awake, before the sound of the car door opening and closing.

Footfalls followed and caught up as Dave walked towards buildings: small stores and a bank and a gas station. Dave whistled, and then listened.

"You really saw one?" John asked, hopeful.

Dave nodded, and then tried to remember what it looked like. "It was gray, with a lot of fur," he said. "And healthy looking. I think it went this way." He started in the direction of the gas station and John followed.

Sure enough, a dog was hidden under an ice machine, which must've been empty by now. "Dave!" John gasped, stopping in his tracks, and pointed, as if a Dave didn't see it.

The dog had friendly green eyes, which looked careful, like it wanted to come out. John smiled big and squatted, holding his arms out, and this seemed to be proof enough for the thing that John meant no harm. It shimmied out and bounded into John's arms, nearly toppling him over.

"It's filthy!" John exclaimed, though his face still looked delighted. He checked under the belt while the dog licked at him everywhere, wagging its tail so violently its whole ass swayed. "She!" John corrected. "She's filthy."

Dave got to his knees to pet her anyway, smiling despite himself, and the dog happily started licking him too. He just made sure to keep his face untouched.

"Are we calling her Sam?" John asked.

"Let's be a little original," Dave suggested. "She should be her own person. Or, dog."

John mulled on this for a minute. Dave had a few thoughts in mind — Jade or Rose, for instance, but he didn't want to mourn every time he looked at the dog. He didn't have the energy for that. He also considered Bec, that was Jade's dog's name, he remembered, but — "Casey."

Dave looked up. The dog sat mostly on him, tail still going. "What?"

"That's my favorite name," John admitted. He reached to scratch behind the dog's ears. "As a kid I wanted to get a pet lizard, name her Casey. But you knew that. After I grew up I wanted to name my kid that, but it's not going to happen now. Obviously." He sighed. "So?"

"How does that sound to you, Casey?" Dave looked down at the dog. It licked his face once and he reeled back, disgusted. "Eugh."

"I'm glad she likes it." John laughed.

They gathered Casey in their truck and she went, knocking the seats with her tail. It hadn't paused. It was unstoppable. Her tongue flopped out.

They argued later, as Casey sat on John's lap, whether they should settle down somewhere, at least for a little while. The argument seemed domestic in itself, and this, Dave realized, Casey with her head out the window and John with his eyes closed, hand gently resting on Casey's back, was a future he didn't mind living in.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr](http://barium.tumblr.com/)


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